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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006630">Bedtime Story</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmaker/pseuds/trainmaker'>trainmaker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dream smp canon compliant [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, M/M, Michael the Piglin, Nightmares, Parenthood, just them being fond and growing together ig</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:35:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainmaker/pseuds/trainmaker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ranboo has never been a part of a family. He wonders if he is enough for those he loves.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>dream smp canon compliant [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>374</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bedtime Story</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Michael's whole hand wrapped around Ranboo's pinky finger. In his life, Ranboo had mostly seen his size as a hindrance, as othering. Here though, stooped over a creature so small, he wanted to be as big as the world. To keep him from everything, from the drums of war, from the staggering solitude, from the precipice of uncertainty. Michael's eyelids fluttered, dreaming in his father's shadow. Pale moonlight poured around the periphery. Silver-plated edges on the soft quilt, the whole room dipped in moonlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo knew the danger of dreams. The sleepy, forgetful, guiltless indulgence of them. They were different though, he and Michael. Michael was a transplant, but he was wanted. When he woke in the night, it wasn't alone. Dreams weren't an escape, they were heralded with Tubbo's softest lullabies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered the first time Michael had a nightmare. How he'd appeared, tearful and small in their doorway. At that moment, Ranboo felt impossibly young. Here was this creature, this child, asking for his father to scare away the monsters. He stared into his eyes, milky and moonlike, and struggled to explain that </span>
  <em>
    <span>they</span>
  </em>
  <span> were the monsters. Michael's face, still so pudgy and round, fell. It was an all-encompassing terror mirrored in Ranboo's own. Tubbo shifted, pushing back the covers and beckoning Michael into his arms. And Ranboo trailed off, watching as Tubbo tucked him under his chin. Tubbo met his eyes, even and sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go back to sleep." He said. It wasn't dismissive, it was pleading. Ranboo's chest felt tight as he watched Michael's breathing even. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't," Ranboo swallowed. "I didn't mean to upset him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, I know." Tubbo blew the candle out and Ranboo sunk back into the bed, consumed by the darkness. A warm hand found his under the covers and squeezed once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo took to Michael naturally, chiding and praising and cooing as if he'd done it his whole life. Fatherhood looked good on him. He had more creases under his eyes, but he wore love beautifully. Ranboo watched as they read in the window-seat, Michael curled around Tubbo, eyes glued to the picture-book as Tubbo invented a whole other story than what was written. Golden light, snow-bright and blinding, caught in Tubbo's hair and glinted off of Michael's bone. Ranboo stood at the threshold, an intruder on their perfect moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"...And then, one day, your Da met your Pa." Tubbo murmured, tapping the page. "And they didn't know it yet, but they were a set. Made to take care of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael giggled, a piglin sort of snort that reminded Ranboo startlingly of Tubbo. As if inherited. He watched the story unfold until Tubbo noticed him and closed the book. "Come here. Come sit." He held a hand out and Ranboo obliged, sliding in beside him. They folded onto him, Michael clambering up until he could stare unnervingly into his eyes. He'd wondered when they first found him if he was blind. He wasn't, but when people stopped to stare at him, Ranboo half wished he was. He wrapped an arm around Michael's little body, manoeuvring him until he could see the book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think you were at the part where we, uh," Ranboo looked down at Tubbo. His eyes were ringed with the night before, with Michael's nightmare. "Where we rescued him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo's eyes widened. "Well," He flipped to a random page. "I don't know if Michael wants to hear about that. Maybe I could tell you the story of Uncle T-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let me tell it then." He pulled the book into his lap and took a deep breath. "It's important."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let the story roll off him, familiar and lovely and full of grief. Finding someone just as you lose someone else. Michael's attention faded to snores after a while and Ranboo quieted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll put him to bed." Tubbo leaned in to take their son but Ranboo shifted away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay. I haven't in a while." He stood slowly, careful not to disturb him. "Let me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tubbo nodded, fixing him with a look of uncertainty. "Alright."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moonlight persisted as the sky made its slow turn through the night. It slipped past Ranboo's shadow and shone brightly on Michael's sleeping face. He didn't wake. Ranboo let out a shaky breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't take to fatherhood naturally. It wasn't something he'd ever known. Tubbo had family, whether they acknowledged him or not, they were there. When he cradled Michael's head, Ranboo saw a flicker of Wilbur or Phil. He saw the borrowed lullabies, the manners and anecdotes. Beloved hand-me-downs of being cared for. Ranboo had only recently come to know the definition of family. The unconditional acceptance of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to learn to be worthy of it. And it was hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Michael's little fist squeezed once, then let go, falling gently against the quilt. Ranboo looked at his hand, huge and empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you for telling him that story," Tubbo said from behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo turned and fell a little further in love. He drew all the moonlight to him, all his warmth turned silver. "I needed him to know how much we wanted him." He took Tubbo's hands in his, enjoying the way their fingers laced, mismatched and uneven. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." Tubbo came closer until he could rest his head on Ranboo's chest. His heart didn't stutter when they touched like this anymore. It carried on, certain and true. "You know, he's lucky to have you. We are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ranboo held on a little tighter, wishing he was somehow small enough to be encompassed entirely in Tubbo's embrace. He tried to reply, closing his eyes against the emotion that gripped him. "I'm so-" He swallowed the words and pressed his nose into Tubbo's neck. Oat and honey and Michael. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's go to bed," Tubbo whispered.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope that was okay!<br/>as always, i cherish your comments and requests. </p><p>not so much romantic, i'm sorry.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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